


I'm fine

by AyMayZing



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Combat, F/M, Light Angst, Light wounds, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29718192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyMayZing/pseuds/AyMayZing
Summary: Hawke is wounded in a slaver ambush. She's fine though, completely fine, Anders patched her up. Really, she's great. And eager to prove that to Fenris.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	I'm fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juniperandjawbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperandjawbones/gifts).



It was normal for them to fight slavers. They did it all the time and pretty much whenever they went - Lowtown, Darktown, Soundermount, on the Wounded Coast, during the day, during the night. They seemed to be a plague in Kirkwall and surrounding areas. Sometimes they jumped from roofs trying to ambush the group, sometimes it was the slavers who were surprised.

But usually they fought slavers at least somewhat prepared for them, ready to take them on, with weapons in good shape, a reserve of potions at the ready and near Kirkwall, where they could escape if something went wrong.

That was not the case this time. Well, technically, in the grand scheme of things, they were still  _ near _ Kirkwall, just further away than usually and on the wrong side of the Vimmark Mountains. They were also exhausted after spending a few days in a Warden prison, battling dozens of crazed dwarves, banthas, Wardens and whatever that Corypheus was. Their weapons were blunt and chipped, there were no more lyrium potions for the mages to use and the healing poultices were scarce. Anders was still recovering from the influence the thing in the prison had on him and Hawke was exhausted and distracted, since she learnt of her father’s unwilling involvement in this whole crazy intrigue the Wardens cooked up. Varric and Fenris were in better shapes than the mages but they too were tired and sore.

So when a group of slavers jumped them in a canyon, well, they were  _ not _ prepared, each walking slowly and quietly, caught up in their own thoughts. It was no surprise then that things went from bad to worse quite quickly.

Fenris was swinging his greatsword at the attackers, gritting his teeth from the exertion when he felt something was off. In a bad way. It took him a moment to realize what had happened - his barrier was gone. Hawke always threw a barrier over him when they fought, he was so used to the feel of it around him, the soft, warm humming on his skin, he barely noticed it anymore - but he did notice when it was gone. The lack of it was jarring. Especially that since they met, Hawke has not even  _ once _ dropped it before they were out of the danger. But right then and there it was gone. Fenris brought one more slaver down and turned around, his eyes searching for Hawke, fear gripping his heart.

Anders was backed against a stone wall, throwing spells and cursing, while Varric climbed on a rock and was shooting bolts from there. Bodies laid on the ground around them, dressed in mismatched pieces of clothing and armor but Fenris did not notice Hawke’s armor anywhere, red flair of her hair, blue hues of her magic. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Varric!” The elf called, his heart beating fast and heavy. “Do you see Hawke?”

The dwarf sent another bolt, straight through a man’s eye and whipped his head around, searching for her. The way his jaw moved and eyes hardened - he did not.

“No! Blondie, how ‘bout you?”

“Kinda busy here!” Anders yelled, pushing back an attacker with Mind Blast.

“Hawke’s gone!” Fenris yelled back, worry turning into rage. He turned to a slaver that was aiming for him and his lyrium tattoos flared. He reached into the man’s chest and drew him closer.

“Where is she? Where’s my friend!?”

“I don’t--” the man gurgled out, coughing.

“Where would they take her!?”

“Broody! I see her!” Varric called from his spot, waving his short arm towards the left. Fenris closed his hand around the man's heart and withdrew his arm, letting the body fall to the ground. Without hesitation he ran where Varric pointed him to - for a moment he did not know where he was even going, there seemed to be nothing there, deeper in the canyon, where the stone walls were less smooth and many big rocks blocked parts of the path. But when he passed another rock, he noticed her - unconscious and bleeding, her staff gone. Two slavers were dragging her behind them by her legs, her arms tied at the wrists and trailing behind.

Rage overtook him, his heart beating quickly, seemingly drumming in his ears. Lyrium tattoos glowing and sword at the ready, Fenris yelled, drawing the slavers’ attention. They turned, shock and fear on their faces, and threw Hawke to the side, pulling out their own weapons, readying themselves for a fight. Fools. It was not a fight they could win.

One slaver ran towards Fenris, dropping low to avoid the blade and throwing his leg to the side, trying to kick Fenris’ out from under him, throwing him off balance. It did not work - Fenris pulled back and it changed the course of his blade. It hit the man in his side and if it were not for the armor, he would’ve gotten cut in half. Instead, he fell, his head connecting with the ground with a sickening crack, though going by the fact he yelled and still moved, he did not break his neck. Easily fixed - Fenris grasped his sword tighter, raising it over his head and down onto the man’s now exposed neck with might. The cut was not as clean as it should’ve been due to the state of Fenris’ sword but he could not muster any sympathy for the slaver. He pulled the blade out and turned to the other attacker, the sounds of the other man dying still sounding through the air.

The second slaver’s grasp on his daggers was tight, his knuckles as white as his face, eyes widened in fear. He seemed unsure if he should run or fight. Fenris didn’t give him a chance to decide. He pretty much flew up to him and thrust his long blade forward. It went through the man’s leather shirt with ease, blood spilling out. The elf turned the blade before pulling it out and the man’s legs gave out. He hit the ground but Fenris was already away, running towards Hawke.

He fell to his knees on the ground next to her, one hand landing on the bleeding wound on her stomach, the other flying to her face, landing on her soft but now dirty with blood and dust cheek.

“Hawke? Hawke, do you hear me?” He asked, fear bubbling in and out of him, dripping into his voice. The mage did not react. He tried again, with the same result. Then he moved his attention fully to the wound - it was not big, most likely the result of someone stabbing her. It was also not bleeding that much but Fenris knew a stomach wound was always dangerous and Hawke could be bleeding internally.

“Fenris!” He heard and whipped around to see Anders and Varric making his way to him. The mage spotted Hawke’s wound and knelt next to Fenris.

“Allow me,” he said, moving Fenris’ hand out of the way and laying his own on top of the wound, magic sparkling to life.

“Do we have any lyrium potions left?” Anders asked after a moment. Fenris shook his head. “Alright. In that case I’ll heal her with magic as much as I can right now and then we’ll get out of here and set up a camp, where I’ll finish it the old fashioned way.”

“Is she in danger?” Fenris asked, his voice slightly choked up.

“Just do what I say and she’ll be fine.”

***

Anders did what he could with his dwindling supply of mana in the canyon, while Varric and Fenris searched the bodies of their attackers. No lyrium potions were found among their possessions but a few healing potions were, along with a quite a few bulky coin purses. When Hawke woke up, they moved away from the canyon and into a valley nearby, where they set up their “camp” - two measly tents and a bonfire. Fenris threw Hawke’s arm over his shoulder, his hand wrapping tightly around her waist as he helped her walk the distance, her stance unsteady, breath rugged. She was feeling better but was still wounded and in pain. He sat with her on some tree trunk, keeping her upright as Anders and Varric set up the first tent, that would soon serve as an infirmary for her.

Hawke sat there pouting, clearly bothered by the attention she drew, feeling guilty over getting stabbed and forcing her friends to take care of her but she was too tired and in too much pain to protest much, her head resting on Fenris’ shoulder, allowing him to hear every single “I’m fine, guys” she mumbled out, to which he either snorted or simply told her to be quiet and accept the help.

After the tent was all done, Fenris helped get Hawke inside and left her with Anders and his bag full of needles and bandages and whatever else, while he went to help Varric with the other tent and a fire.

Anders left the tent around 45 minutes (which seemed like much more to Fenris) later, one bag on his shoulder, two of a different kind under his eyes.

“She’s fine, just needs some rest. So do I, by the way,” he said through a yawn. Fenris’ shoulder relaxed as he let out a breath he’s been unconsciously holding in for the past three hours.

Hawke was fine.

“Our tent’s set up and ready for you, Blondie.” Varric waved towards the tent they set up. “You two go get some rest, I’ll take the first watch.”

Fenris looked at him.

“Are you sure? I can--”

“Go, Broody. You’ve been like a storm cloud since Hawke got wounded, I’ve had enough of your negativity for today. Go on, both of you!” He ushered them.

Fenris mumbled a “Was not” under his nose but he did walk into the tent he shared with Hawke, illuminated by one small rune hanging from one of the top poles.

She was laying on her bedroll, red hair spilled over her pillow, a blanket covering her up to her chest. Her hands parallel to her body, eyes closed, she looked like one of the patients of Anders’ clinic, sick and weak.

But then she opened her sparkling eyes and a smile bloomed on her face. Fenris’ head cleared for a moment, breath catching in his throat.

“Hi there,” she said, grinning. Fenris watched her for a moment, then sighed, shaking his head lightly.

“Why does it seem that trouble just follows you around?” He asked, his tone even. “Do you think you’ve been cursed maybe? Or is it just your personality, some character flaw that allows you to subconsciously recognize what will cause the most trouble and forces you to dive head-first into it?”

She laughed at that, a soft, joyous sound that made something in Fenris’ chest flutter, the knowledge that he made her smile causing him to chuckle lightly as well, his face softening, posture loosening up.

“Maybe a mix of both?” She answered, propping herself up on her elbows. “Maybe I was cursed to dive head-first into danger?”

“That would make sense,” Fenris said, putting his sword next to his own bedroll and beginning to pull off his armor. “Would explain why of all the people in Kirkwall, you took interest in me.”

Their… relationship, though Fenris was still reluctant to call it that, this thing between them, was still new, still soft and curious and still seemed like a dream to him, a part of him disbelieving that it was happening. He told Hawke things like that every now and then, trying to let her know that if he changed her mind, decided to withdraw, he’d understood. He truly believed he was not the best option for her, no matter how happy her attention and affection made him. Every time she tried to assuage his worries, sometimes by sitting him down and telling him she cared and wanted to be with him, sometimes by waving her hand dismissively and rolling her eyes with a smile that said “This again. We’ve been over it, you know my stance on the matter”.

Something familiar passed through her face when he said that now, quickly followed by a glint in her eyes and a small smile.

“Were you worried about me today?” She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly, appraising him. Fenris got the last part of armor off himself, leaving him sitting cross legged, wearing just the leather pants and shirt he put under it. He looked at Hawke for a moment, before turning his gaze away from her, warmth in his cheeks.

“I-- Of course I was worried.” He whispered, barely audible. But she did hear it and pulled herself up, fully sitting up now, leaning into his line of sight.

“I’m alright,” she said as if she was assuring him, cheering him up, even though it was her who was wounded.

“I know. And I am glad,” he answered, not exactly sure what he should do. “Maybe you should lay back down? Anders said you need rest.”

Hawke smiled, a smile that was more mischievous than happy and raised an eyebrow.

“Since when do you listen to Anders? And I did say I am fine, didn’t I?”

Fenris watched her for a moment, a small smile on his face as well.

“You did say that but, you see, I don’t believe you.” He smirked at her surprised expression. “You keep saying that you’re fine when you’re not fine. Remember that time when you broke your leg and took off the cast sooner than Anders told you to? You tried to walk normally and kept saying you were fine but then it turned out you twisted your ankle and you  _ still _ kept saying you were fine. And I’m not even mentioning that time after you fought the Arishok and someone had to watch you all day and night so you’d stay in bed until you fully healed. So, Hawke, your assurance that you’re fine doesn’t mean much.”

Hawke blinked a few times in surprise before she threw her head back in laughter. Fenris felt rather proud of himself for this one, for the surprise and joy on her face. He felt even prouder when she looked back at him, grinning brightly. Something in her eyes that lit a flame in his chest.

“Oh? So my word’s not good enough for you?” She asked, inching closer to him. She planted her arms in front of him, propping herself up on them and leaning forward. Her shirt dropped lower, exposing more of her breasts. Fenris’ eyes caught on this sight for a moment and when he looked back at Hawke’s face, she was smiling in a way that was almost predatory. He felt heat pooling in his gut and bit his lip, willing himself to stay calm and composed. This was not the place nor time.

Hawke leaned forward even more, her face getting closer and closer. With every inch of space less between them, Fenris’ throat was getting a bit more dry, his mind a bit more blank. “So how am I supposed to convince you that I am fine and you don’t have to worry about me anymore?” She whispered, her voice low, her face so close to his he felt her breath on his lips. Fenris felt a chill run down his spine. He looked into her eyes, noticing her pupils were now wider. Her cheeks were tinted pink slightly, hair framing her face, full lips slightly parted, tip of her nose almost brushing against his. Fenris opened his mouth to say something but no sound escaped him, his brain so caught up on Hawke, the proximity wiping any useful thoughts from his mind.

She smirked at his silence and closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together. It was not a gentle kiss, not in any capacity. It was hungry and passionate, all tongues and teeth, some desperate quality to the way their lips moved together. Fenris pressed a hand to her cheek, keeping her in place as he kissed her back and Hawke wrapped arms around his neck, moving up and settling in his lap. Her fingers weaved through his hair, nails scratching at his nape, drawing a low sound of approval from the back of his throat. Fenris wrapped his arms around her waist, hands slipping under her shirt and moving up. But then his fingers brushed against something coarse and he pulled back, looking down.

There was a bandage wrapped around her stomach, underneath which was the wound she probably still did not recover from.

“Fen?” She asked and he looked up at her, her eyes dark and sparkling in the mute light of the rune.

“Maybe this isn’t the best idea, Hawke. You  _ are _ wounded.”

“I’m--” She cut herself off before she said ‘fine’ once again. “It’s nothing serious, Fenris. And what better way to celebrate life there is?”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“So you want to celebrate life, huh?”

She smirked, kissing him lightly. 

“What can I say, adrenaline is still running high after today. It must be the same for you.”

“It is,” he admitted, not eager to let her go but aware that it might not be a good idea. “I simply--I worry about you, Hawke. I don’t want anything to happen to you, certainly not because I made you…  _ exert _ yourself too quickly after being wounded.

Hawke watched him for a moment, then smiled.

“I know, Fen. We’ll be very careful.”

“You? Careful?” He snorted, incredulously. Hawke chuckled, swatting him on the shoulder lightly.

“I can be careful when I want to! And you know who’s more careful than I am? You. So, I am not worried.”

Fenris stared at her for a while, feeling warm creep up his neck, cheeks and into the tips of his ears.

“You know what I like and I trust you,” she added after a moment, shrugging. “You’ll keep us both safe and satisfied, what do you say?”

Fenris trusted Hawke and he knew she trusted him as well, but it was something different to know that had her trust in a fight and something else entirely when she said she was fine with being vulnerable with him, knew he’d take care of her. His head spun.

“I--I trust you too, Hawke,” he managed out, slightly choked up. She smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then another next to it, and another and another, moving until she caught his lips in a kiss. He reciprocated eagerly, pressing her closer. His hands moved up, under her shirt, past her bandages and he gripped the fabric, pulling it up. Hawke broke the kiss and moved back slightly, raising her arms so he could get the shirt off of her.

Fenris admired Hawke’s body time and time again, every time they were together he allowed himself a moment to take in the sight that she was but this night he was so eager to have her close that as soon as the shirt was out of the way, he wrapped his arms around her again, pressing her flush against him and kissed her. She wiggled in place a bit, their hips pressing together and they both let out a heavy sigh at the friction.

“You should stay on your back,” he said, “it’ll be better for your wound.”

Fenris moved one hand up, to the back of Hawke’s neck, the other one lower, onto her lower back and dipped her back, not breaking the kiss. A moment later Hawke was laying on her back on one of the bedrolls, Fenris above her and between her legs. He pulled back and straightened out, pulling off his own shirt. He looked down and noticed Hawke was staring at him, biting her lip, cheeks now red, pupils blown wide. She admired him, wanted him and that only caused his own arousal to spike. He dived down, kissing her and she weaved fingers through his hair.

He moved, his lips landing on the underside of Hawke’s jaw and she sighed, throwing her head to the side to give him better access. Fenris’ mouth moved along her jawline, then down her neck and when he reached pulse point, he bit down, then covered the spot with his tongue and Hawke moaned. He smiled at that but kept going lower, planting kisses down her chest and on her breasts, tongue swirling around her nipple, drawing another sigh from her.

She tightened her grip on his hair and pulled lightly, and he went up, just as she guided him to, wanted him to. They kissed, a hungry, deep kiss that was more teeth and tongue than anything else.

Hands on her sides, he resumed moving lower, kissing her soft, warm skin, making sure he avoided touching the bandage. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her hip bone on one side, one hand moving down her side, catching on the band of her panties, fingers slipping underneath it and pulling them down. Hawke inhaled sharply, her muscles tensing.

Fenris kept kissing her, moving down to where the line of short, coarse hair began and then lower. His hands slipped from her side onto her hips, keeping her in place. He could hear Hawke’s breath become faster, then catching in her throat when he flicked his tongue over the small bud, just the way he knew she liked. Hawke gasped, her back arching into him. He pressed himself closer, the tip of his tongue flicking over her silky, glistening opening, moving up and down. Hawke moaned, writhing, her thighs trembling slightly. Fenris rubbed one delicately, thumb brushing against the inside of her thigh, the other hand still gripping her hip, keeping her in place.

“Fuck, Fen!” She gasped, trying to ground down against him, take him deeper inside of her but he wouldn’t let her, pulling back slightly. “This feels so good. I need more, Fen.” The last sentence was whispered, need and desperation clear in her tone and Fenris smiled lightly.

“All in due time,” he whispered. His tongue returned to Hawke’s clit, rubbing at it gently, delicately. She whined, whimpered beneath his touch and Fenris felt his own arousal grow.

His mouth and tongue moved in a lazy, teasing rhythm, enough to get Hawke going, but not enough to push her over the edge. Fenris flicked his tongue over her clit, then he pressed his mouth over it and sucked. Hawke cursed again, clearly out of breath and Fenris pushed two fingers inside of her, moving them slowly, his mouth still on her. She threw her head back, a moan escaping her lips. Hawke moved her hips, grinding against him, his face, pushing his fingers deeper inside of her. Her moves became faster, more erratic and she stilled, looking up at him with a smile that could only be described as  _ wicked. _

“Get those pants off,” she said, smirking.

Fenris pulled back, sitting up on his heels and looked up at Hawke - her face flushed, eyes a bit unfocused, a smirk still on her face.

He undid his belt and pulled off his pants, his hard cock springing free, chill running down his spine at the sensation of cold air on him. He leaned over Hawke again, hands propped by her side, keeping him over her. She sent him a smile.

He dived down, capturing her lips in a kiss and she reached between them, her hand gripping his cock. She began pumping him slowly, her hand moving up and down. He sighed into her mouth, his hips moving to meet her touch.

Her warm grip on his cock, her hardened nipples brushing his skin when he moved above her, her soft, kiss-swollen lips, hot breath on his skin - it was all driving him mad, all of it was so much, too much and yet not enough. He wanted more, he wanted to bury himself in Hawke entirely, their bodies melting together, becoming one.

“That’s-- Ah! That’s enough,” he breathed out after a while and she let go of him, his cock twitching, the lack of attention almost hurting. Not for long. Fenris reached down, his hands grasping Hawke’s thighs and bringing them up. She wrapped her legs around his hips, head of his cock against her opening. Hawke’s body went rigid with anticipation and she moaned when he entered her. He gasped, the tight, wet warmth around him overwhelming. Hawke grasped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“ _ Fenris, _ ” she half-moaned, half-demanded, looking into his eyes, her gaze sharp and desperate. He thrusted his hips forward and she sighed, throwing her head back, eyes flying shut. Her hands slid from his shoulders onto his arms and she held onto him for dear life as he moved inside her. Her legs tight around his hips, she began to move as Fenris thrusted into her. Soon they found a rhythm that worked for them both. Their minds were wiped clean off any coherent thoughts, both caught up in the pleasure, in the sensation of a hard cock inside of her, the sound of skin slapping on skin, the warm breath of the other one washing over their skin. Fenris pressed his forehead against Hawke’s, their noses touching as they moved.

“Hawke” Fenris breathed out. It was overwhelming,  _ she _ was overwhelming, the fact that he, Fenris, was with her was too much for him to handle. After all those years of yearning and denying himself Hawke’s company, here they were, together, just the two of them, wrapped up around each other and nothing else mattered. 

“Were you worried about me today, Fenris?” Hawke asked, breathless.

“Yes,  _ kaffas _ , yes, I was so worried Hawke.”

“I’m here now. All yours, Fen. I’m here.”

“You are.” She might never know how much that meant to him, that she was there, with him, that she chose him, waited for him.

Fenris pressed a kiss to her neck and she tightened her legs around him, moaning. Her hand flew up and into Fenris’ hair, grasping them, pulling. Fenris moaned at the sensation and he started moving a bit faster. Hawke did the same, their moves quickly becoming fast, erratic, any semblance of a rhythm gone, replaced with a primal chase after release.

Out of breath and out of his mind, crazy for Hawke, Fenris drove his cock into her again and again and he felt the build up in his gut, so close. A few more thrusts and Fenris was seeing stars, a low, heavy moan escaping his lips as he rode out his orgasm, slamming into Hawke, spilling inside her. She was just behind him. Eyes flying open and rolling back into her skull. She let out a long, choked sound, her muscles spasming rhythmically around his cock.

Then they both dropped down onto the bedroll, warm and languid and trying to catch their breaths. Hawke’s legs dropped to the ground, her grip on Fenris loosening, eyes closing. He, with his face still pressed into her neck, breathed in deeply, his whole body relaxing. They laid like that for a while before Fenris finally felt like he had bones in his body again, allowing him to turn onto his back, next to Hawke. He looked at her and she was watching him too, a lazy, bright smile on her face.

“Now you believe me I’m fine?” She asked, still a bit breathless and Fenris laughed. He put a hand on Hawke’s cheek, brushing away some of her hair.

“No,” he said after a moment. Hawke gasped theatrically, scandalized and opened her mouth to say something but he didn’t let her. “I don’t. But I want you to know that I’ll be around even if it is not fine. Always, Hawke.”

Her mouth fell shut and she watched him for a moment, before nodding. She put a hand on his chest.

“It goes both ways, don’t you forget that. I love you, Fen.”

“I love you too, Hawke.”


End file.
